


Kara and Helo Go to WhiteCastle

by oxymoronassoc



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 13:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11231874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoronassoc/pseuds/oxymoronassoc
Summary: Spoilers thru Scar 216. Set pre-series.Description 2006 Me Wrote:  Kara and Helo go to a bar for Helo's birthday and are generally homeslicey.





	Kara and Helo Go to WhiteCastle

"You're not really going to wear that."

Kara turned, glaring at Helo. "What is wrong with what I have on? It's clean." She tugged the zipper on her sweatshirt up with a militant jerk.

He held his hands up in surrender. "I hope your illustrious reputation is enough to get you in, then, Starbuck."

"Shut up," she muttered, smoothing some lotion into her lower lip. She caught a glance of the picture stuck below the mirror and frowned. 

"Don't you have a dress?" Karl asked, sitting down in one of the chairs that crowded around the table in the bunks.

"No," she said, hoping her tone was enough to get him to drop the subject.

He squinted, the freckles across his nose bunching together as he tried to remember. "Didn't you buy a blue one? Yeah…I went with you. Lords, you took hours to pick that out. First and last girly thing I ever saw you do. What happened to it?" 

"I burned it," Kara lied, seeing the blue silk carefully folded with her father's jacket in the back of her locker. 

He remembered then why she bought it and the grin he'd been wearing disappeared. "Oh. I forgot. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she muttered, slamming the locker door shut. "I'm going to go see if I can borrow a shirt from Racetrack. I'll meet you on the flight deck."

* * *

"Do you have a dead body in there?" Helo asked, eyeballing her duffle bag.

"Haha," Kara muttered, still in her tanks and sweatshirt. "I got my extended leave approved." 

He nodded, thinking that it wasn't a moment too soon. He'd been on her to get some leave time for weeks. Not that she listened and not that he really pushed the issue. He wondered what had happened to finally push her into filing the paperwork. It could've been Kat and Scar and that whole ridiculous affair, but Karl wasn't sure that was all there was to it. He never asked though; it was better to wait for her to tell him. 

"Ladies first," she told him with a smirk, gesturing to the waiting Raptor. He laughed before looking out across the flight deck. He saw Apollo watching them, eyes narrowed, pretending at inspecting his clipboard. Helo nodded at the other man before turning back to his companion. Kara didn't seem to notice they were being watched; maybe she was used to it or maybe she was deliberately focusing only on the task at hand. He climbed aboard the Raptor, Kara following him without a backwards glance.

* * *

They ended up at a bar called White Castle. Kara claimed to have borrowed and bartered for the tight-fitting black slacks and shiny black top. Helo suspected her of having the clothing all along, but he didn't say anything, just whistled which got him a punch in the arm for his efforts. 

They sat at one end of the bar for awhile, sipping bright coloured sugary drinks. Kara's had an umbrella which she seemed to enjoy, much to Karl's amusement. 

"I will stab you with it," she told him after he laughed at her twirling it about with the hand not firmly wrapped around her glass. He held up his hands in surrender. 

"I'll buy next round," she told him generously three drinks later. "Happy fracking birthday, old man!" Her cackle made a number of patrons turn and stare at her. Helo grinned. 

"Thanks," he murmured.

"Oh, no problem." Kara cocked a finger at the bartender, a young man who looked rather nervously at the captain. "Since you can't be with your ladylove, I might as well pay to get you royally piss drunk"

"That's so kind. I'm touched."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself. I know where you've been."

He snorted. "Look who's talking."

Hazel eyes rolled and she lounged back in her barstool. "Hey, man, I heard that fracking a toaster can really mess your junk up." 

"Yeah, well I heard fracking the CAG can win you a hefty supply of chocolate. Was it tasty?"

The feet of her barstool hit the floor with a loud thump and she leaned forward to glare at him. "What are you talking about?" Kara ground out.

Karl blinked at her tone. "The betting pool? Come on, Kara, you have to know about that."

"Oh." Her posture relaxed and she toyed with her umbrella. "Yeah, I know. I plan to fracking win it."

"Oh, really?" Karl was surprised she hadn't won it hundred times over already.

"Yeah, well I might as well profit from my own debauchery." She smirked and didn't meet his eyes. "Want to play some cards?"

He knew she was avoiding the question and made a mental note to ask more later. "Yeah, let's go show those civvies how the real men play triad."

"Women," she sneered, sliding off her barstool. "Prepare to lose your shirt, flyboy. I've been wanting some of those sour apple lollypops." 

They were still laughing and pushing each other when they reached the table. 

"How much to deal in?" Kara asked, one hand on her hip. 

The group of men looked up at her, then at Helo.

She snapped her fingers. "Look at me. He isn't going to win your firstborn." 

A greasy looking fellow in a pinstriped suit looked her up and down. "You new?"

Kara smirked. "You could say so." 

He nodded to his companion and the woman behind him in the shiny blue scraps of silk glared at Starbuck, but she didn't care as she and Helo sat down.

An hour later Karl had the feeling these lounging lizards were regretting dealing the pretty girl and her friend in. Kara was tipped back in her chair, a halo of smoke from a "damn fine cigar" floating around her head. She had that look on her face; he knew that look and was glad he'd folded long ago.

"Full colours," she crowed, slapping the cards down and smirking across the table at the remaining man foolish enough to continue to play.

He threw down his cards in disgust, rising to glare at her. "You got the fracking luck of the gods, little girl." 

"That's Captain Little Girl," she told him, not even looking up as she counted her pot into neat piles. 

The guy eyeballed her for a long minute and Karl was afraid he was going to have to restrain Kara because she really wasn't at her best when she fought drunk. And then the hootchie spoke.

"Oh my gods! You're Kara Thrace!"

Kara paused in her booty collection to look up. "Yeah, what if I am?"

"I saw you on that news brief! Oh my gosh. This is so cool." She slid into the chair next to Kara, leaning in to whisper not very quietly. "Is Captain Apollo as good in bed as he looks?"

Helo really didn't want to see this pretty but unfortunately clueless woman meet the receiving end of Kara's fist. "Hey, 'Buck. I'll grab us a table."

She jerked her eyes away from the bimbo to nod, pocketing her loot by shoveling it into her handbag. "Nice to meet you," she told them, ignoring the woman's protest at not getting the juicy details on Captain Tiny Towel. 

"Tell me," he said, pushing the cold beer bottle across the table as she sat down with a sigh. Kara stared at it, lips pressed together tight before taking a long swallow.

"It was a mistake. We were drunk. I…I just wanted to forget." She looked up at him and her eyes were sad. She rubbed her thumb around the lip of the bottle, frowning. "It was stupid. So fracking stupid. And he forgave me anyway." The look she gave him said she didn't understand.

He waited to see if she was going to say more. A cheer went up at one of the back tables, but it seemed curiously distant, like they were alone now in their own little vacuum.

"He loves you," Karl finally said.

"He can't!" Her words were tinged with panic and he felt, not for the first time, a blinding rage for her mother and every other person in her fracked up life that didn't love her enough.

"It's not your choice."

"I don't want him to die, okay? I don't want him to die." Her voice was so soft that he could barely hear it. 

"That isn't your choice either."

"Thanks a lot, Karl," she snapped, tone turning ugly as she stood up so fast her chair almost tipped over. "Advice from the man who knocked up a toaster. Real good source material." 

He watched her cross the room, slide onto a barstool, order a stronger drink than her abandoned beer, and start up a painful flirtation with the man next to her. Kara could be so painfully obvious.

The bar was closing when he finally fetched her. She was piss drunk and cackling away like an idiot, but came with him willingly. Karl paid her tab out of the pot she'd won earlier, giving the bartender a tip for having to deal with his belligerent friend. 

"I didn't mean it," she told him as they lurched down the corridors to the hotel where she had a room. 

"Yeah, I know." He fished around in her purse for the plastic key card. "Did you seriously win this?" he asked, pulling a fancy compact out of her purse.

She frowned, stumbling over to lean against the wall. "No, it's mine."

Helo stared at the round gold disk, noticing then the initials in the top, KT in a scrolling, swirling script.

"Zak gave it to me," she said, lurching forward to take it and tucking it back into the handbag. "I don't miss him. Should I feel guilty?" 

"No." He got the door open in only one try; electronic keys never seemed to agree with him. Kara stumbled in after him, making a beeline for the bed and falling onto the coverlet with a sigh.

"You okay?" he asked, bolting the door and placing her purse on a side table. 

"Yeah…yeah I'm okay." She rested her hands on her stomach, kicking her shoes off. 

He nodded, sitting down next to her. 

"I did it for the wrong reasons."

Somehow, he'd known this topic wasn't over. "Yeah?"

"He deserves better."

Helo sighed loudly. "Do I have to say it again?"

"Yeah. You do." 

He gave her a gentle shove. "Fine. You don't get to decide that."

"I know. Life is hard. Sometimes…" she paused, frowning. "Sometimes I think it'd be easier to be a machine. Just go through the motions, no messy complicated shit to deal with. Just nice smooth machinery."

"Yeah, well, look where that got us." He laid back on the bed next to her.

She patted his arm awkwardly. "Can I name it?" 

He eyed her. "What did you have in mind?"

"Starbuck Junior." 

Karl chuckled. "Somehow I don't think Sharon will agree to that."

"Sharon's a bitch." 

"So are you."

"Yeah, well…" Kara paused. "I don't think 'so's your mom' is a good comeback anymore."

"So's your face?"

"There is nothing wrong with my face! Take it back or I will smother you, Mister Pretty Boy."

"That's Lieutenant Pretty Boy, sir." 

"Boy, you're lucky I'm too drunk to move or I'd beat you up."

"You could try." 

"Shut the hell up. I'm your commanding officer."

"You're crazy is what you are." 

They grinned at each other and were silent for a long time before Kara scooted further back onto the bed.

"Make the ceiling stop spinning."

"I can't."

"Well why the frack not. Some friend you are."

Karl opened one eye. "Shut up and pass out already."

"Ladies first." 

Fifteen minutes later, when Karl was forced to get up and pee, he returned from the bathroom to find Kara happily passed out and drooling on the cover.


End file.
